


Tale as old as time

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Backstory, Character Death, Child Death, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, but only mentioned, surgeon!Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6616261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will works in a welfare centre and is sent as a therapist to a father who has just lost his daughter. The men bond over the traumatic experience, reshaping each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Are you ready for a story?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ferris_Eris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferris_Eris/gifts).



> as i've figured it out - each chapter will start with a scene set after the events form the second part of the chapter - You'll get it when You read it ;)  
> also - i plan to break Your hearts with feels - please tell me if i'm doing it right ^^

 

> They say a tale as old as time. But no story is older than the one of a tragic loss, a mourned love and a desire for vengeance. And however many times you hear it, it always ends the same way and it always hurts to hear.

 

The water spattered as he stepped into the puddle on the ground, destroying the perfect silver circle of the moon. His wet shoe left traces behind as he kept walking. The November night was chilly but the temperature was supposed to drop even lower in a few days. In a few days the droplets falling on his head and clothes would turn into snowflakes.

He raised his collar as high as he could, as he had no scarf around his neck nor a cap on his head. His hair was ruffled by the light wind, adding to the cold, but it made him smile as the memories of a beautiful sunny day passed through his mind.

The main gate was closed and he considered climbing but before he would act desperately, he moved to his right and tried the knob on the smaller door in the iron fence. Sometimes, the groundskeeper kept one exit unlocked, due to various reasons. If this wasn’t a case of simple oversight, he would be quickly spotted and marked as an intruder, but he was no thief and he came here for a specific purpose – one to be revealed in a moment.

The ground was muddy as he walked forwards, not paying attention to the countless marble headstones on both of his sides. He was interested in one particular place which he found after making a few quick turns between the tombstones.

There was a large plain, spreading in all directions, overgrown with grass which in spring would turn green again but for the time being was covered with mud. In the nightly darkness, diffused only by the light of the stars and lanterns, he found the modest headstone by the grave he was looking for. The inscription was fairly short, mentioning only the most important things about the deceased.

A light appeared by the gate and he knew the groundskeeper was aware of an intruder. A torch was directed onto him and the grave, and seeing the visitor’s face, the groundskeeper turned around, leaving the man in peace.

On the grave there was one lantern and two white roses. He lit the candle inside the lantern and found a small wooden bench by the grave. Silently, he took a seat, not minding the wet surface of the bench which would certainly stain his trousers. He did not care about falling ill nor about his clothes. The coat, once elegant and expensive item in his wardrobe, was stained and torn in a few places, making the owner look like a homeless guy who happened to found the coat in a garbage container.

His hair was not much better. With time, the chocolate silken locks faded, turning silver, dirty and greasy. He was not the man he used to be. He often wondered if any of his old friends would recognise him on the street. The only thing that remained more or less unchanged was his voice. The hoarse, tired timbre carried with the American accent still had the power to ricochet and reverberate in a crowded room. It had nothing to do with the volume but rather with the resounding pitch.

He opened his mouth after a moment, aiming at finally speak but he could not. He needed a few more minutes, a few more laps of the smallest hand in his watch, which by a miracle avoided being broken so many times.

When he decided the dawn was too close to prolong the silence, his voice filled the space of the cemetery, waking up the ghosts of the past and all the souls whose home was the graveyard.

“Are you ready for the story?”

The unusual softness of his voice made the question sound like a beginning of a bedtime story, read or told to a child who is preparing to sleep.

The headstone remained cold and steady but the rustle of leaves, mostly roaming on the ground, and the whistle of the wind answered the visitor. The place was in a fair distance from the road and given that it was the middle of the night, there was no traffic that would disrupt the tale to come.

*     *     *

Will Graham was walking down the stone stairs with walls of thick bushes on both sides. Ironically, it was a sunny day in the middle of spring and no one would believe that on such a day there were people who were suffering from depression and struggling with the disasters in their lives. Only Will felt like he knew that all too well.

He was heading to pay a visit to another lost soul – a father who had just lost his daughter. Although in his thirties, Will had never been a parent and had no time wrapping his head around a concept so complex as creating a life. Another thing was that he felt he was not attracted to women; he liked their company and respected the ones in his life but could not imagine ever building a romantic relationship with a woman.

The neighbourhood was nice and Will imagined only rich and highly educated people lived there. The houses were big, with huge neat yards in the fronts and at the backs. There was a closed and monitored playground nearby but otherwise it was a street with beautiful houses placed in fair distance from each other.

Will was wearing an elegant gray coat as it was not very warm and the weather forecast warned that there may be a storm in the afternoon. The street seem lifeless and abandoned; most of the inhabitants were probably at work at that hour. Graham took a piece of paper out of his pocket and checked the address once more. He knew the details by heart yet he always felt safer after checking one more time.

 _Hannibal Lecter, 45, a doctor of medicine, works in a hospital as a surgeon, no other alive relatives._ And the exact address.

Will stood on the doormat and took a deep breath. He was experienced in his field of work but there was always a moment of doubt and fear that he would not be helpful at all, that he would break and make the mess even worse. Graham had his own problems and his own personal disasters, most of which happened when he was a kid and when he had no impact on the world around him. As a teenager he had many hopes and ideas for the future but his very down to earth attitude made him adapt to the environment and choose a job he had been practising for the last few years.

There was plenty of reasons why one would become a therapist in social welfare department. A stranger might say that the personal traumas made Will choose this particular path but he liked to think the departure of his mother had nothing to do with his career. The satisfaction of being able to help and the smile on someone’s face after often a long period of mourning was enough to try and visit those in need.

Will knocked on the door and waited. After a few seconds he heard light footsteps on the other side. Someone was definitely home. However, the footsteps hesitated, stopped and seemed to be waiting as well. Will understood.

“My name is Will Graham. May I come in for a moment?”

The person on the other side did not answer. The moment of silence was prolonged but it was not awkward. Will didn’t want to be an intruder in someone’s life, he only wanted to help, but if a person did not think help was necessary, he would back off.

The footsteps resumed their rhythm and in a moment the door was open. Through the gap Will saw a man, or rather a wreck of man, who was looking back at Graham.

“I’m a therapist at the welfare centre. I’m aware you received a phone call and agreed to this visit?” Will explained and the man nodded. He opened the door wider, inviting the man inside.

Graham offered a polite warm smile as he entered the house and looked around. The place was huge – Will could easily see the kitchen and the living room as well as the stairs leading up. Everything was perfectly designed and decorated, there must have been no mistake or omission in planning the interior.

Lecter took Will’s coat and hung it by the door, then led the man further inside, to the living room. It was a nice space, filled with beautiful old-fashioned furniture, musical instruments and bookshelves full of various literary positions. Hannibal pointed at a seat in an armchair and sat opposite his visitor only when Will did.

“This is a very beautiful house. Did you design all of it yourself or did you hire someone?” Graham started with a polite chit-chat, not to startle the man with straightforwardness. Socialising used to be extremely difficult for Will. He was always the new one in school and he was known for thinking differently than everybody else. His peers mocked him and his teachers felt sorry for him but he considered himself a good man and a good thing that he ended up the way he did.

“I have a particular taste when it comes to art, interior design and food.” Lecter explained. Will smiled at the words but couldn’t help but notice the unsteadiness of Hannibal’s voice. The man was weak. He was dressed in a nice dark suit and he tried to keep the appearances but under the façade of being a strong alpha male, Will sensed a broken man who had suffered a terrible loss.

“Oh, so you cook?” Will asked enthusiastically.

“Not professionally. It’s more of a hobby. But I put a lot of effort and heart in it.”

“That’s good. We all need something to keep as afloat. For example, I like fishing. It’s not so much of a hobby anymore as it is just a few moments for myself, for thinking or shutting the thinking.” Will kept the conversation light, to test the waters, but broaching the sensitive subject was inevitable.

“Usually I prefer not to shut the thinking. I’m a doctor and I have to keep my mind ready and focused.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“But I have to admit, the thought of having my mind empty for a while was tempting. I only realised it would not be helpful in any way.”

“Do you prefer to go straight to trauma?” That would be much easier, Graham thought. He could address the point of his visit and avoid acting as if he was pitying the man.

“Are there any stops on the way?” Hannibal asked and then realised something. “Forgive me, I have not offered you anything to drink. Would you like some water maybe?”

“I’m alright. But, please, tell me are you seeing anyone? A professional, I mean.”

“A psychiatrist? No. I don’t like having people fumble around in my head. I’m perfectly aware of what is going on inside me.”

“Do you talk to your friends about what happened?”

“I’d rather not be whining in the company of my colleagues.”

There it was – the male strength and the inability to admit that something is weighing heavily on the man. Will understood the approach but he was trained to talk to people and persuade them to be open about their traumas. He was supposed to act as a buffer, as a catalyst.

“Admitting to feel pain, or any kind of emotions for that matter, is not whining. It’s human. I should hope that since you do not see any other therapist, you would agree to at least one session a week with me? It can be an hour, it can be more and I am absolutely flexible when it comes to terms.”

Will’s words were soothing and reassuring but Hannibal did not seem convinced.

“I work different hours and would not like to expose you to my excuses as I would have to skip a session due to an emergency.” There was an emphasis on the words ‘session’ and Will immediately knew what the problem was.

“I didn’t mean to discourage you by calling our meetings ‘sessions’. I thought we could have friendly conversations if you’d be willing to unburden. It’s not humiliating to talk about one’s problems and I’m sure that as a doctor you know that sharing is very often recommended for its therapeutic values. But let me ask you another thing – would you prepare a fish for dinner if I brought one next time I’m here?”

“I haven’t accepted your kind offer yet.”

Yet. So there was a chance he was considering it.

“Do you? Accept, I mean.”

Hannibal seemed to be listing pros and cons of the offer just by looking at the man. Then, his eyes shifted to the harpsichord in the corner. Will was also staring at the man’s face, gray, tired and bloodshot eyes. From the files Will had read he knew the daughter had died almost a week before. Lecter must have shed all the tears he had and all he was left with was the silent house and memories. Will had seen that look, that expression many times, but when he appeared on the families’ doorsteps, they often burst again in his presence, reliving the pain. Hannibal was calm. His sorrow and mourning was rooted inside him and claiming his vital signs.

“Thank you for your visit, Mr Graham.” Hannibal said, his eyes transfixed on the instrument.

“Please, call me Will.”

“Tell me, is there a child in your life, Will?” This time Lecter turned to look at his visitor, probably to feed on the man’s expression and to check if he was honest.

“No. There is none.”

Hannibal considered him for the next few seconds, then forced a smile and spoke.

“I’ll try to spare a few hours for you on Saturday, would that be alright?”

“Certainly.”

“But now, I would have to ask you to leave.”

Will stood up from the armchair, realising how he missed the soft texture already. Lecter led him to the front door which he closed right behind him.

This would not be easy, Will thought, but he was not the one to turn down a challenge.


	2. She was not my biological daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as said before - the first part is set after their relationship is established, and the second part leads to that ^^

The delicate wind was rustling the leaves on the trees and the speed of the car made the grains of sand by the road rise and fly, to land again a few metres away. The sun was reflecting in the clean surface of the road and the white stripes along it. The windows were partly open, allowing the wind to come in and mess with their hair. Will smiled as he looked at the trees and the scent of freshness and forest filled the car.

Gentle tunes from the radio caressed their ears as they drove on, seemingly heading to nowhere. The road was wide but there were not many cars, and if there was any, Hannibal let it overtake them. Apparently, they were in no rush, simply enjoying the ride and each other’s presence. Lecter expected a greater traffic since it was summer and people were travelling every day, hoping to get to their destination on time. Yet, the lack of other drivers allowed Hannibal and Will spend the time relatively silent. The only noise was from their engine and the radio.

Will pressed a button in his door to close the window when the wind pressure undid a button in his shirt. He chuckled and fastened his shirt correctly, then looked at the road. A feeling of safety and happiness passed through him, engulfed him and he wanted to laugh at his own silliness. His lips were constantly spread in a wide smile that reached to his eyes, causing wrinkles emerge around them.

Hannibal was extremely fond of those wrinkles and of that smile. He was even a little jealous of Will’s effortless beauty. When they passed another curve and the road seemed straight for the next few miles ahead of them, Hannibal took one hand form the wheel and moved it to rest atop Will’s knee. Graham threw a wary glance in the driver’s direction and then relaxed under the touch.

They felt so innocent. Broken, experienced by the life’s strange curvy paths, but pure and hoping to be rebuilt. There was not a second they regretted their decisions and the pleased smile could not be wiped off their faces. Will closed his eyes in silent reprimand for remembering a cheap music video clip that featured a similar scenery. He could even remember the melody and was about to hum when Hannibal laced their fingers together.

Graham was so lost in the moment, he didn’t realise that they stopped. Only after a second did he notice the engine’s lower tune and shifted his eyes from Lecter to the traffic lights in front of them. He didn’t expect a crossroads at that point and then thought how it resembled the point in his life he was currently at. There were many possibilities and he decided to take seemingly the most dangerous turn, allowing himself a chance for happiness. The warm slim fingers entwined with his were the reminder that he chose right.

What had he done to deserve that?

Will looked down, at his hand cupped by another, and sighed contently. He wasn’t old but his relationship with Hannibal made him feel even younger. The moments they shared were in a way compensation for his lost youth and all the things he had missed out. He and Hannibal were two adult teenagers with the door already scratched but still open and waiting. Opportunities were ready for them to take, although Will knew he was being silly for thinking, even if for a shortest while, that they were almost invincible.

“Why can’t it last? Why can nothing good ever last?”

“It’s good and beautiful and worth remembering exactly because it will not last forever. But, please, let’s not trouble our minds with the transience of human happiness.” Hannibal pleaded and lifted Will’s hand to his lips in order to place a quick light kiss. Then, he put Graham’s hand back on his knee and pushed the accelerator.

*     *     *

He knocked on the door, looking around, imagining all the neighbours having dinner after a rough day at work. Twilight was approaching and lamps started to light up the houses. Will could see a woman in the house next door who was laying the table and calling the children to help her. Graham thought how that view might be depressing for a father who had lost his daughter.

“Good evening, Will.” A low, slightly tired voice greeted Graham and then Lecter invited his quest inside. Hannibal’s eyes were piercing the package in Will’s hands, which the man offered politely to the host.

“The promised fish. I caught it this morning.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, thank you.” Hannibal took the package and headed towards the kitchen, but before Will managed to hang his coat, Lecter turned on his heal and spoke. “Would you like to join me in the kitchen or make yourself comfortable?”

“I don’t want to be an intruder.”

“Of course. But I’m granting you access to every room on this floor. Preparing the fish may take a moment and I don’t want you to feel neglected.”

“Alright. I’ll take a quick look around the house, if I may.”

Lecter nodded, assuring it was fine for Will to take him up on the unusual offer. The corridor led to the huge living room, which Will had known already. The harpsichord was still standing in the corner and Graham remembered the intensity with which Hannibal stared at it last time he was there.

What was somewhat striking was that there were no pictures on the walls, only paintings. Among those beautiful artworks, wooden furniture, glass and china figurines, there was not one thing that would be clearly personal. Obviously, everything in the room might be in some way connected with Lecter or his daughter but as a stranger, Will couldn’t tell.

There were no photos of the girl in the files Will obtained so all he could do was imagine her. She was 19 when she died – that was all Will knew.

Graham could not refrain himself from sitting by the harpsichord and splaying his fingers just an inch above the keyboard. Had she sat there and played for his father? Was it one of the nicest things that happened to Lecter after a day at work?

Will looked at the books lying on the shelves behind the instrument. There was not one that the children read those days. Well, the girl was not a child anymore. But not even one book from her childhood? Not even one stupid novel the teenage girls liked because it told the story of undying love? Graham considered it weird, to say the least. But maybe all of her books were in her room. Lecter seemed to be particularly pedantic and careful about his environment.

“It will be just a moment longer.” Lecter’s voice startled Will, who was sitting with his back turned to the man. Graham started shifting, ready to stand up and apologising for possible transgressing but Hannibal approached the harpsichord and sat next to his guest. “You brought a beautiful fish, Will.”

“It was the best of what I caught.” Graham’s voice was quiet and soft, soothing almost, as if he was trying to alleviate the pain of a child who had his tooth pulled out.

Hannibal nodded and followed Graham’s gaze to the shelves in front of them. “Have you found anything interesting?”

“Um… I haven’t seen any photos of Abigail.” Will needed to tread carefully as he had already discovered he was dealing with a tough individual, a male who would not easily reveal weakness.

Lecter remained silent, most likely trying to find the answer for the implied question. His eyes focused on the keyboard, which seemed slightly dusty given the host’s fondness of perfection and tidiness. His hands reached forward, ready to press a key, only to escape the silence that must have been haunting him ever since his daughter passed away.

“I never kept personal items in the living room. I feel protective of my privacy.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Not quite. You see, you don’t know the whole truth. Anyway, I have a photo album upstairs. I can show it to you later, after dinner.”

“I’d be delighted. If that’s not much of a trouble?”

“Not at all.”

Another moment passed and finally Hannibal stood up, leading his guest to the dining room. He promised to bring the fish shortly and disappeared behind the door to the kitchen.

The room was dimly lit, or maybe that was only an impression due to the dark colour of the walls. Will glanced at the cutlery on the table and on the crystal he was about to drink wine from. Everything about the house and the owner was splendid. There was a sort of mystery to the man, as there was some to the house – it was beautiful, decorated in the most peculiar way. Rarely, did Will visit such houses. Never would be more accurate.

There it was – the fish, brought on a (most likely) silver plate, with grace and calmness. Hannibal placed the dish in the centre of the table and took a seat opposite his guest.

“I hope you appreciate my skill. Applied to this lovely specimen, it should create an exquisite combination.”

Will did appreciate Hannibal’s cooking skills only after the first bite. The meat was delicate and tasty; Will could swear it melted on his tongue.

Lecter observed his quest as if the man was a member of the jury, about to announce the most important verdict in his life. It made Will feel slightly uneasy, but he mustered a smile and paid a compliment. The atmosphere seemed to relax, but the dinner was far from over.

“You’re wealthy. I can’t even begin to imagine how much you spent on this house. I can’t help but wonder – why didn’t you go to see a therapist? Someone-”

“Better than you?” The question was not a sign of doubt on Hannibal’s part but rather a genuine interest in Will’s perception of his own person.

“I’m being paid. You don’t have to worry that I won’t be bothered because you don’t give me money.”

“So it’s all about the money?”

Will pushed his plate aside, slightly offended that someone could accuse him of doing his job only for money. He was not that kind of person.

“I’m starting to think you’re insecure about your ability to help.”

“That’s funny. I used to be. Insecure, I mean. But then things changed, I got genuinely engaged in my work. I believed I managed to overcome my insecurities. And then I met you.”

“Am I to understand that I opened up your insecurities back?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Hannibal couldn’t help but smile. At that moment, seeing the amused expression, no one would believe Lecter was actually a father in mourning.

“I’m sorry. I was being insensitive.” Will’s voice betrayed his honest regret.

“I should apologise, too. But don’t act too softly on my account. I value honesty even if it doesn’t suit me.”

Will nodded in acknowledgement and thought of going back to his initial question. He took a bite of the fish, remembering he was currently having dinner with what could be considered his patient. An unorthodox therapy, one might say.

“So why didn’t you schedule an appointment with a therapist?”

“I didn’t think I needed it. I still don’t. I’m used to dealing with emotions on my own.”

“Allow me to suggest that you were not alone before. You had Abigail. Didn’t you talk to her about how you felt?”

“I did.”

There was no other sentence after that. Lecter finished his fish and watched Will with a terrifying intensity. The man ducked his head, to focus his eyes on the his plate, but he was aware he was being observed. He could either accept the challenge or admit defeat.

“You said before that I didn’t know the whole story. What did you mean?”

“I believe it’s time for us to move upstairs. You wanted to see that photo album.” Hannibal dodged the question and when Will was finished with his meal, he led them upstairs as promised.

There were a few pairs of door, all closed, and Lecter opened the last one in the corridor. It revealed a room with fade turquoise walls and not particularly many items inside. There was a single bed, perfectly made. By the opposite wall there was a bookshelf and a desk, with a few notebooks on it. Everything seemed to be neatly kept in place; there was no room for mistake or even an ounce of chaos.

Hannibal stood in the door while Will stepped inside and looked around. Lecter didn’t seem hesitant, though. His eyes were fixed on a small piece of paper lying on the desk.

The whole room appeared to be still in use by a young girl, as if she was just gone for a while. Will wondered if Hannibal had come through the door even once after Abigail’s death. It was obvious he was at a loss. The man had his arms crossed on his chest and breathing steadily. The sight was terrifying.

As if nothing had happened.

What was interesting was that there were no photos of the girl in her room, either. Not in plain sight, anyway. Will admired a painting on the wall and then glanced once more at Lecter still standing in the doorway.

“Do you plan on redecorating this room?”

The question threw Hannibal off balance. His brows tightened in a straight line above his narrowed eyes. Then, the man sighed, ducking his head.

“I know it’s the reasonable thing to do. I just can’t get to do it yet.”

“I see. May I sit down?”

Will pointed at the chair by the desk and Hannibal nodded in silent permission. Finally, he took the first step into the room and stood by the desk, keeping his eyes on the piece of paper. He reached out, watching Will the whole time as he grabbed the sheet of paper and handed it to his guest.

“She was not my biological daughter.” Lecter confessed.

The surprise on Will’s face was hidden enough but his eyes widened anyway and brows rose, asking for an explanation. There was no mention of Abigail being an adopted child. Not that it made any difference – a loss was still a loss.

Graham looked at the piece of paper in his hands and read the document Abigail got when she was released from the hospital three years before.

“There was a car accident on November 15th. I was on my shift and they brought in a sixteen-years old girl. When I was finished, she was in bad shape but with the prospect of recovery. Her parents were not so lucky. Mother died instantly, father on his way to the hospital.”

Will was fidgeting with his hands while he was listening. It was probably the first time he was acting so unprofessionally near a patient. The realisation dawned on him so he tried to calm down and show respect, while Hannibal continued, keeping his voice impossibly steady.

“I felt obligated to take care of her. It was the first time I knew that if my patient were to survive, they could curse their fate. So I kept visiting her, not only as a doctor but also as a friend. After the initial shock, Abigail remained strong and with a clear head. She was thinking about her future. I was aware she would be taken into an orphanage and that would close many doors for her. I couldn’t let that happen. So I fought. Due to various circumstances I managed to bring the adoption process to an end in a relatively short time.”

Graham didn’t know if he should interrupt in any way so he just waited until he would be certain the story was over. Lecter looked around at the furniture surrounding him and Will assumed the man could feel the girl’s presence, as his nostrils flared. There was still something the man wanted to say.

“I never considered having a child. It was such a strange concept to me. And I was always too busy with work. Besides, there was never any woman in my life. None that would keep my attention for long, anyway. But that wouldn’t even matter because I’m gay.” Lecter chuckled after confessing that, which made Will slightly uneasy – he considered himself a gay man as well and was wondering if Lecter was ashamed of the fact, hence his reaction.

“Did Abigail know?” Will scolded himself immediately after the question left his mouth because he was focusing on the wrong issue.

“Yes. She didn’t mind. She used to say she’d be happy to see me finally settle down with a nice guy. One night, when she was ill and the fever was causing her to hallucinate, she asked me to promise her that I’d introduce her to my partner before she was twenty. I guess that gives me eternity to keep that promise.”

Will couldn’t refrain himself this time and placed his hand on top of Hannibal’s. Graham was still sitting in the girl’s chair while Hannibal was standing next to him. This was far from what a therapy session looked like. Will used to reassure his patients and act as more than a therapist but there was something growing inside him that was out of line. Will was getting attached.

He looked at his watch on the wrist placed on Hannibal’s soft skin and stood up abruptly.

“I took so much of your time. I should probably leave to let you have some rest.”

“Would you say we’re making progress?” Hannibal asked with a smile that was not entirely honest but not mocking either.

“Yes. And I think we’ll keep seeing each other exactly like we did today. I’ve noticed it’s easier for you to open up when I act as a friend rather than a therapist.”

Lecter hesitated and the smile disappeared from his face. Will knew exactly what was going on – the man was not used to talk about his emotions so openly and he didn’t trust many people. Hannibal developed strategies to dodge sensitive subjects and now was put to test. Yet Will felt confident to break the walls and got to the very core. He had a few aces in his sleeves as well.

“How do you feel about a morning visit? Would that be possible to arrange?”

“I work different hours but I have a free morning on Thursday as of now.”

“So I’ll see you then?”

“At nine. And come hungry. I’ll prepare breakfast.”

Will smiled at the words and was led to the door. He took his coat and left.


	3. You enjoy saing lives, don't you?

He opened his eyes slowly, not sure what he’d see when he woke up. It wasn’t his first time away from home and it wasn’t the first time he woke up in Hannibal’s bed. However, the feeling of familiarity had not yet fully shaped in his mind. The sun lit up the room and reflected on the white sheets beneath him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he woke up with such fondness and full of hope. Every morning starting with the knowledge he didn’t sleep alone was a gift for him. Not that he minded the loneliness; he was used to it. It was the fact that he overcame his fear of letting someone into his life and his mind. Will was never a fan of the concept that the true love developed in the heart. It was just a simple organ, another one in the complex and complicated machine that was a human being.

Will let his head rest on the soft pillow a moment longer and splayed his hand over the place where Hannibal had slept last night. The man wasn’t there anymore and the sheets were no longer warm, a terrifying proof of Hannibal’s absence near him.

It was silent in the room, apart from Will’s quiet steady breathing. He kept staring at the open door, curious what happened with Hannibal. Normally, he would stay in bed until Will woke up, eager to greet him and kiss him good morning. Even if had little time before work, Lecter would make sure he was there when Will opened his eyes.

The bed was soft and Will didn’t want to get up; he was unwilling to shatter the perfect illusion of a dream-like reality. The satin duvet slid over his naked body as he shifted gently with a smile on his face. He was a fool, wishing he could stay like that forever.

Then, a man walked into the room. The man, to be exact. The man who went through so much yet remained hopeful and open for the opportunities around the corner. With only a towel covering his wet body, Hannibal stepped towards the wardrobe and moved the hangers inside as quietly as he could.

Will didn’t dare say anything; he was merely observing the way Lecter’s muscles shifted under his skin as he moved and the way the droplets traced paths on his naked body. The sight was magnificent and Will wished to memorise it so that he never forgot that moment. Despite his silly hope to freeze in time, Will was aware that time passed and he treasured every second of blind happiness he was given.

Hannibal turned his head slightly but in the corner of his eye he spotted that his lover was wide awake. He turned completely to face Will, forgetting about the clothes he was looking for.

“Good morning.”

“Hi.” Will answered and chuckled softly, reaching out and motioning with his finger for Hannibal to turn away. “Don’t mind me. I’m happy to watch your back.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal narrowed his eyes. He seemed overwhelmed and astounded as he looked at the man in bed. With a smile, Lecter opened a drawer and took out an old-fashioned polaroid camera. He stepped by the foot of the bed and pressed his eye to the lens.

“You want to take pictures of me when I’m in bed, completely naked underneath?” Will asked, only feigning to be indignant, but genuinely enjoying being so admired and appreciated.

“I tend to take pictures of you while you’re asleep.” Will frowned at the unusual and brave confession. His eyes shifted from the lens of the camera to Lecter as Will tried to understand the meaning of all that.

It wasn't until his thirties that Will Graham had fully and consciously accepted the fact that he would be forever alone and lonely. He did not trust people, nor did he like to socialise at all. The polite chit chat was a mystery to him and this inability to talk about the weather combined with the unwillingness to keep eye contact with his interlocutor made him an outsider. That was a life he had imagined awaited him and would never change.

The click of the camera made Will blink and return to the reality. He watched as Hannibal waited for the photo to show clearly and then smiled at it.

“Do you keep them?” Graham asked and sat up, reaching for the photo. Hannibal only nodded and Will smiled reassuringly when he spotted the signs of fear rising in the other man. He wasn’t mad – only surprised and shocked that someone would like to capture his face and cling to it.

*     *     *

Will’s fist banged on the door for the second time when Hannibal hadn’t opened it after the doorbell. There was no footsteps and no rustling on the other side so a stranger would assume the owner is not at home. But Graham glanced at his watch once more and took out a few notes from the pocket of his coat. He tried remembering their conversation last time he was there; he was certain this was the time they agreed upon. Thursday morning.

Graham leaned against the door, pressing his ear to the wood in order to focus on any sound coming from the inside. His nose didn’t register any alarming scent.

Lecter wasn’t a man who gave the impression of being forgetful or neglectful. He openly admitted he didn’t want help but he agreed to the deal Will had proposed and it was obvious he would keep his end of the deal.

Hannibal didn’t strike Will as a suicide type and, although he had recently lost his daughter, or a substitute for a child, he would not go to such great lengths. Lecter was a man who enjoyed life and was open to new experiences. Grief was just another one on his path.

There was no car left on the driveway but Lecter had a garage.

Will called the man’s phone but there was no answer. He was genuinely starting to worry. There was no way Lecter would not leave him a note or let him know in any way that he could not meet him.

 

The ride to the hospital took him a quarter. He appeared by the reception desk, seemingly uneasy. His eyes were shining and lips trembled in uncertainty.

“Excuse me, could you tell me if dr Lecter is currently operating?”

The lady by the desk frowned.

“Why do you need this information?”

“I had an appointment scheduled with him and he didn’t show up.” Will explained, slightly annoyed that the moment of uncertainty was prolonged by the unnecessary technicalities.

“Let me see.” The woman clicked something in her computer in the slowest way possible. “Yes. He’s in the operating room. He was called in as it was an emergency.”

“When exactly was he called in?”

The woman looked at Will sceptically and then back at the screen, then at the clock above them.

“Four hours ago.”

“How long can the operation last?” Graham was aware he was asking hard questions and there was no of knowing how much longer Hannibal would be operating but he had to try. Even after the receptionist threw him a very murderous look.

“I’m unable to answer this question. If you wish to wait, please have a seat but I can’t guarantee he will appear soon.”

Will thanked the lady for the information and moved to make way for another person who stood behind him in a queue. Lecter was called in very early and that was probably why he didn’t call to cancel their appointment.

Will waited for a moment in the corridor, pacing up and down and considering whether he should stay. How long could the operation last? More to the point, the doctor would be exhausted afterwards and most probably not in the mood for a session. Even though Will tried to convince the man not to treat their meetings as strictly professional, on the doctor-patient level, Hannibal would not acquiesce.

There were a few empty chairs in the corridor and Graham took a seat. He checked his watch every few minutes, until half an hour passed. Lecter was his only patient that day and he was supposed to come to his office later, to organise some things. There was a staff meeting planned for the afternoon to say goodbye to one of the workers. Will would miss her but that was a simple circle of life – growing old, retirement, death.

Graham was really eager to see Hannibal and find out more about Abigail’s story. After his dinner with Lecter, he had checked the files again the next day. He also wanted to google more about the circumstances of the actual death of the daughter but didn’t dare to. He expected Hannibal to tell him everything when he was ready.

Will yawned as he approached a vending machine to get himself something to drink. Suddenly, he heard an already familiar voice nearby.

“…yes and I’ll check on him in the afternoon. See you later, Fred.”

Graham turned and saw doctor Lecter take out his phone. The man fumbled with it for a few seconds and then pressed it to his ear. Will wasn’t sure if he should reveal himself or let the man end the call but the decision was soon made for him as he heard Hannibal speak.

“My name is Hannibal Lecter. I was supposed to meet with one of your therapists today, Will Graham. Could you, please, give me his-” At that moment Lecter spotted Will standing in the corridor with a can of coke in his right hand and waving with the left one. “My problem seems to be solved. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

“Hi.” Will took a step closer, immediately getting afraid he shouldn’t have come. That way he made his attachment clear.

“Good morning, Will.” Lecter smiled, softening his features. It was obvious he was tired and would love nothing more than to go back home and sleep for the next few hours. “I see you managed to find me.”

“You didn’t answer your door and I thought you would have found a way to contact me if you had to cancel.”

“Yes, I wanted to call you but I realised-”

“That I forgot to give you my phone number.” Will finished the sentence and smiled. Lecter’s house and story had utterly bewitched Will and made him neglect his basic duties. As a worker of social welfare he should have offered his card with a telephone number as well as his name and a few other details.

“And it was very early when I needed to be here so everything worked against me.” Hannibal explained with a genuinely apologetic expression.

“That’s no problem. But for the future,” Will put his left hand in his pocket and found a small piece of paper. “Here. And don’t hesitate to call me any time of day or night. I don’t really work nine to five.”

“Neither do I. And as it happens, I am free till late afternoon, so maybe you would like to have lunch with me?”

The offer made Graham elated. Not only did Lecter seem to be in a rather good mood, he also decided to give Will a try and not perceive their meetings as therapy sessions. It appeared that it was easier for him when they had a meal and talked in the meantime.

“Gladly.”

 

Will took a seat in the booth and browsed through the menu. He had skipped breakfast that day, which made him quite hungry, but he couldn’t focus on the letters he was reading. Instead, his mind registered Lecter’s eyes wandering over the card and the look on his face when he was deciding what to order.

When the waitress left their table and they were alone again, Will sipped on his coffee and looked through the window.

“How did the operation go?”

“Um. It would have gone better if I had one more assistant with me. But it went smoothly anyway. The man should be okay in a while.”

“You enjoy saving lives, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, that’s a part of the job. So I don’t really mind being called in the middle of the night and being told to appear immediately at the hospital.”

Graham nodded, sipping his coffee and wondering if he was on the right track.

“What about the people that don’t survive?”

“Nothing. They die. I do everything I can to help them but sometimes it’s not enough. And I have to accept that.”

“What about Abigail? Have you reached the stage of acceptance?”

Will expected a moment of silent retreat and grief, maybe a tear, but Hannibal was not a man to meet any expectations.

“There is no point to dwell on this, is there? There was nothing I could have done then and there is nothing I can do now to change the way things went.”

That was good to hear, all things considered. Lecter did not feel quilt or responsibility for Abigail’s death, nor should he.

“Do you visit her grave often?”

The waitress brought their meals but Will refrained from eating until Hannibal answered.

“I’ve been there twice.”

“I would very much like to avoid the standard ‘how does that make you feel’ question but I need to ask – does visiting her grave make you feel better?”

“I wouldn’t go there if it made me feel worse. I’m not really a masochist.”

“You’d be surprised how many people likes visiting graves to feel bad. It has to do with a martyr complex. Or they simply feel guilty.”

“I don’t. I visit Abigail’s grave for plenty of reasons but definitely not to feel guilty or to satisfy my selfish ego.”

The men ate their meals and changed the subject to something lighter, conversing about the life of a surgeon and Hannibal’s studies. They exchanged a few stories from their time as pupils.

Will offered to walk with Hannibal home because he wanted to talk a bit longer. It was gradually becoming clear to him that he enjoyed spending time with Hannibal, not only as a means of mental help but also as a friend, if one could call that the relationship they had after three meetings.

“How about a stroll in the park next time?” Will offered with a warm smile, the one that caused wrinkles to appear around his eyes and made the gesture genuine.

“That would most definitely seem like an unorthodox kind of therapy.”

“I told you not to treat this like a- Treat me like a diary, like a person to confide in without any reservations. I know we’re not friends, not yet anyway, but you need to trust me in order for this to work. So can you do that? Can you trust me?”

“I find it very difficult to confide in people on the spot. But I suppose we’ve shared some things and there is no reason to stop. Unless… You were attributed to my case, is that correct?” Will nodded so Hannibal continued. “Is there any timespan or a rule as to when you… abandon my case?”

“I was going to broach it next time we meet. But don’t think I’m going to forget you when you disappear behind the door after our last ‘official’ meeting. There are files to report and lots of various documents for me to work out but I tend to keep in touch with people.”

Lecter had been acting sceptically since the beginning but he seemed to relax in Will’s company. If this was only a work to be done, then he’d be soon released. If there was really more to it, if Will was going to actually see him outside of the paper work and his duty, then that would be nice.

“I’m free on Wednesday. We can have that stroll then.”

“Great. I’ll call you on Tuesday to establish the details.”


	4. Tragedy is what brought us here

Will looked at the intimidating gate with a hint of fear and a feeling of this being inappropriate. He sometimes got that impression but never admitted to it. Hannibal had assured him multiple times already that they both made a choice and that he was fine with it.

They passed the iron gate and Will knew something was different and odd because Hannibal wasn’t holding his hand. He didn’t mind that, though, aware of the sanctity of the place. Naturally, Will heard stories of teenagers sneaking in and making out in the light of the moon by a tomb but that was simply vulgar. He wasn’t going to do anything to defile the place.

There were more people than he had expected, as it was just another day of the week but it was sunny and Will reckoned there were people who cared about the graves all year round, not only during All Saints’ Day. Graham remembered how he would sneak out to stare at the cemetery in his town, in the late evening, when all the candles and lanterns made it look as if it was on fire. It was somewhat harder to feel the atmosphere of the place when the sun was reflecting on the flat surfaces of the cold stones, blinding everyone around.

The couple moved along a wide path in the middle and then Hannibal took the left turn, leading them to the part of the cemetery that was not yet occupied by many and where various plants grew. It was a newly opened part, as the graveyard almost run out of places to bury people and more land had to be purchased to expand its territory.

Among the marble and granite headstones, Hannibal found the one he came to visit. Will looked at the inscription on the stone and then at his lover, who seemed utterly absorbed. It was as if Hannibal lost contact with the reality for a moment – his eyes were empty and cold, deprived of the familiar fondness, which Will had got used to.

Lecter’s hair was ruffled by the wind and that was his sign to return to the present moment. He glanced at Will and smiled apologetically. Then, he stepped closer to the other man and took his hand gently, lacing their fingers.

“Abigail, I want you to meet someone.”

Will felt overwhelmed by everything – he was proud and happy and afraid. There was no way Abigail could not approve of him but his heart pounded heavily in his chest. That meeting meant so much to Hannibal and Will didn’t want to spoil it. He wanted to be a part of the family, however strange it may have seemed.

“Abigail.” Will said softly and squeezed Lecter’s hand. They were staring at the headstone, both spirits far away, as they imagined the girl alive and well with them someplace else. Will saw a meadow and a blanket spread on the green grass. Hannibal, on the other hand, imagined them walking through a park, shoulder to shoulder – a happy family.

Graham lit a candle and placed it on the cold stone. ‘A broken teacup’, he remembered Hannibal’s words. A broken teacup, never to be reborn. It was only then that Will understood the metaphor completely and wished he could help Hannibal reverse time. So that the teacup never shattered.

Would that mean they would never meet? Will wondered if he’d rather bring back the daughter or continue his journey with Hannibal. There was no one correct answer and both options were destined to break his heart in a way. But he realised he was not able to turn back time and the only option he was stuck with was continuing to build his relationship with Lecter, brick by brick, until they were both certain they chose the right path. In this life, anyway.

*     *     *

There was no way they would stop and sit on a bench as it had started raining exactly the second they met by the entrance to the park. The clouds were threatening to spill the whole morning but they refrained until the worst possible moment – it was quite too late to cancel the meeting. Nevertheless, with the possibility of rain, both men took their umbrellas with them and were prepared when the first raindrops hit the ground.

They walked along one of the many paths inside the almost empty park, as most of the people had left when it started raining. Only nature seemed to bloom during such weather. The water would pour and nourish the plants, offering freshness before the heat wave promised by the forecast.

Will could not bear the thought of extreme hotness in the next few days. It made everything so much more difficult.

“Will there be more people coming to the hospital when heat wave approaches?”

“Most likely. The rate of strokes increases during heat waves. People dehydrate, get sunburnt and so on. As a surgeon, I don’t really fit in the picture but if the hospital is short on staff, they call everyone.”

“It’s not difficult to faint in my office when it’s so hot outside. They installed an air conditioning system but that thing isn’t exactly healthy. One of my colleagues had a sore throat and then fell ill. He’s still having troubles speaking.”

Hannibal nodded and gave some advice as to what to do and what to avoid during the approaching heat wave. The men walked while the perfect silence was slashed with the sound of the water tapping against the fabric of their umbrellas over their heads.

“Do you feel like talking about Abigail some more? I’m really curious.” Will asked quite boldly.

“About her life or her death?”

“Tell me everything. Tell me how you remember her.”

“She was a strong young woman. It was a thrilling experience to be a part of her life and play the role of her guardian. You know, I’d always thought of parenting as shaping but then Abigail came, probably already shaped and she had her own views, her own interests. I was fascinated by her.”

“It sounds like she played a big part in your life as well.”

“It should have been easy to predict. But it wasn’t. I was genuinely surprised when I realised how engaged I was in her life. I was a mere observer, like an audience in the cinema. But it felt as if the rest of the world was a mere addition, a scenery needed for the actors to play. She was the star.”

Hannibal spoke slowly, his words were well-thought and measured. The tone in which he spoke was reassuring and smooth. Will looked at the man, seeking pain or regret but he found none. Water under the bridge, as they say. Lecter had a daughter and then, suddenly, he did not.

“A star in the ocean of stars. And no one seems to notice that one is missing.” Hannibal concluded.

“It’s enough that you feel this lack immensely.”

“She wasn’t the only one who died that day. But I suppose the tragedy is personal and individual.”

“I’m not really familiar with what happened. I hoped you would tell me?” Will prompted the man to share the tragedy with him.

“I did not witness it. All I know was from the police and the papers.” Lecter began as the men continued their walk in the park while the rain refused to stop. “She was on a train and the train derailed. Apparently, someone on a bike thought he could pass the level crossing before the train approached. He couldn’t. He died instantly along with a few passengers. Unfortunately, Abigail was one of them.”

Will wasn’t sure how he should react. The humans are such a stupid species. One man caused an accident which led to the death of several people. And that made plenty of people suffer: the family, friends, colleagues.

Graham realised he had read an article about an accident by a level crossing but he almost ignored that. Accidents happened every day and people were witnessing deaths of their relatives on a regular basis but Will couldn’t predict just how great impact that one accident would have on his own life.

Naturally, he’d been a therapist for the last few years and he dealt with plenty of tragic losses. He had other patients to see that same week he was seeing Hannibal. Yet there was something about the way Lecter was coping with his situation that made him special. He did not fit the profile of a person in mourning. Hannibal was aware of the inevitability of life. He seemed to have reached the stage of acceptance almost too soon.

“It would appear that tragedy was imprinted in Abigail’s fate.” Hannibal stated calmly.

“I don’t believe in fate.” Will confessed, hoping he would not cause an argument.

“No? Then what brought you here? Why did we meet?”

Will was thrown off balance by the question. The answer was obvious but uttering it would feel violating.

“Tragedy brought us together. It separated you from your daughter but introduced another party to your life.”

“In Greek dramas fate is always tragic. A protagonist is left with two choices, both of which will lead to an unfortunate denouement.”

“We’re not in one of those dramas. It would be unbearable to know that regardless of our decisions, we are doomed to fail.” Graham contradicted.

“Are you an optimist by nature or does your job require it?”

“I’m a realist.”

“Ah. And a man of reason, I would say.”

“Reason is what keeps it all together when the heart fails.”

“I suppose I feel the same. Rarely, have I pursued the desires of my heart. Abigail was the greatest exception but I don’t regret that.”

“Nor should you. I’d expect she influenced you as strongly as you influenced her. Not necessarily in a child-parent way.”

They got to the other side of the park and stopped by the entrance. Will glanced at his watch and wondered if he should propose to walk further or simply bid goodbye. Lecter decided for them both, walking out of the park and out on the street.

The rain stopped and the men folded their umbrellas.

“Why did you decide to work in social welfare?” Hannibal asked and led the way to a car park.

“Honestly? I wanted to be a detective. But I guess sometimes you have to compromise and abandon your dreams. As I said, I’m a realist.”

“A detective is not an unrealistic job to get.”

“True. But I managed to get a degree in psychology and followed that path.”

“And why not open your own office as a therapist?”

“Well, for once it’s too costly. And helping people who cannot afford professional help is… rewarding, to say the least.”

Lecter nodded and pointed at his car on the lot. “Do you need a lift?”

“I’m alright. But I was thinking that you could come to my office in the welfare centre next time. I need you to sign a few documents and I think it would present a distraction to your daily routine.”

“There’s no routine to my life, I believe you know that.” Hannibal offered a warm smile. He was not offended or misunderstood, he was being playful.

“Regardless…”

“I’ll come on Monday. It will be a terrific way to start the week.”

Lecter was amused and his humour was contagious. Yes, Will would await the beginning of the next week.


	5. Bad habits die hard

Rarely did he have nightmares but when they occurred, they were unbearable. Hannibal liked writing down the content of his dream visions immediately after he woke up because that gave him a better chance of remembering the details. However, he believed he would understand the dream only in the morning or even after a few days, when the nightmare was no longer ‘fresh’.

Hannibal woke up one night and instantly sat up on the edge of the bed. It took him a while to realise he might have woken up a man sleeping beside him. Their relationship was still somewhat new to him and after over forty years of sleeping alone he was not yet accustomed to sharing his bed.

What was more, Will was a light sleeper and would wake up to a slightest noise. Lecter managed to discover that fact rather quickly as he would often get up before Will or retire later then the other man, waking him every single time. It was terribly inconvenient because Hannibal didn’t wish to disturb his lover’s sleep but Will always assured him it was not a problem and he would kiss him before closing his eyes and returning to sleep.

That one time, Hannibal managed not to wake Will as he sat up and tried to remember his dream. It turned out to be more difficult than usually and he could not retrieve any fragment of the nightmare that caused him to wake up in the middle of the night.

Lecter glanced back over shoulder and spotted Will, still peacefully asleep. Suddenly, he realised that it was his lover who appeared in the dream. Hannibal got up and left the bedroom as quietly as possible.

Will woke up a few moments later anyway and felt the place beside him was empty. He sighed and wondered what happened that time. It was normal at that point and Will got used to the fact that Hannibal would be called in or wake up to get a glass of water or just to pee.

Graham was no longer worried but he couldn’t close his eyes again and figured he would investigate. He got up and left the bedroom, immediately spotting the light coming from Hannibal’s study. Will leant against the doorframe and watched his lover absorbed in writing.

Lecter spotted him only after he was finished with his entry and offered an apologetic expression when he lifted his head.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Hannibal closed his eyes and mumbled that he was sorry for waking Will again. But he couldn’t help it.

“I’m in a habit of writing down my nightmares.” Hannibal confessed and watched for Will’s reaction.

“Something like a diary?” Graham asked, keeping his voice soft and not at all judgemental. As a professional therapist, Will was expected to comment on such behaviour, but he refrained.

“Only with the descriptions of the dreams.”

“Every single one?”

Lecter nodded. Will rubbed his forehead and face, showing that he was tired. He would not deal with the matter too long.

“Since when?”

“Since I was thirteen.”

Will’s eyes widened this time. He imagined a pile of notebooks with Hannibal’s dreams and swallowed. It would be a perfect tool to understand the man – his fears and hopes – as well as a means to destroy him.

“I reckon this is not the best time to broach it. Or maybe never.” Graham stated. He wanted to show respect for his lover’s privacy. There was no reason for him to dig deeper if Hannibal would want to share that part of himself.

“There is one particular dream I’d like to discuss with you, though.”

*     *     *

Will yawned as the elevator opened on the third floor. Two of his co-workers had been already in their offices, absent-mindedly sipping coffee. Graham greeted the two women and headed to his own small room, with huge glass in the wall.

It was still quiet in the morning, right after the weekend and Will was in awe. There was a few hours left before the people would start coming and filling the whole floor with chatter, laugher and radio news. Will didn’t mind the chaos and the noise but cherished the peacefulness right before the world would return to normal.

When Graham was opening the door to his office, another colleague appeared behind him, accompanied by the very unusual patient.

“Hi. Hello, Hannibal.” Will was nonplussed by the man’s early presence in the centre but invited him inside the small office after greeting his co-worker.

“I woke up and couldn’t contain myself so I decided to come here. I prefer to be an hour too early than a minute late.” Hannibal explained as he took a seat opposite Will.

The men were settled on both sides of the desk.

“I’m glad you came. But I hope you didn’t have to wait for me too long?”

“Not at all. Besides, your colleague kept me occupied.”

Will started browsing through his drawers and put a few sheets of paper on the desk. He glanced at Hannibal and wrote something down, almost absent-mindedly, disturbing the silence with the scratch of the pen against the paper.

“We’ve been seeing each other outside of my office,” Will started explaining, “due to my own recommendation. But there are some documents you have to sign and… I want to have you on cameras, just in case.” Graham pointed with his pen in the corner of the ceiling.

That was understandable. Graham couldn’t file reports of the sessions with a ghost.

“I see.”

Hannibal didn’t even turn in the camera’s direction; his eyes were transfixed on Will – his hand holding the pen, the way he moved it to write, the way his eyes were following the words.

“I’m filing a report about your mental stability and the great development with dealing with your grief. You will no longer need my psychiatric help. That way we’re done with the paper work. But as I have told you, I would like to remain in touch.” Graham offered a warm smile and then shifted his gaze at the papers again.

“In case my mental stability collapsed?” Hannibal returned the smile, amused.

“No. In case you need a friend to talk to and unburden. I’m a good listener. I don’t judge.”

“Comes with the job description, I suppose?”

“I don’t like playing tricks on people.” Will confessed and looked at Hannibal, waiting for his answer.

“I’ll consider it, then.” Lecter left a pause and turned to look away, through the window, but quickly glanced back at Will. “Actually, I don’t have to consider it.”

There was fear that grew in Graham at the thought that the man had been playing him all that time and now that he got bored, he was pleased to leave and let go.

“You became a sort of routine in my life and I hate changing my routine.” Hannibal stated.

“Bad habits die hard?” Will asked with a smirk.

“Something like that.”

“It’s fine. I’m really glad we reached this compromise. I was thinking…” Will stopped his hand and put the pen down next to the document he was signing. He leaned his elbows on the desk and glanced at the man in front of him. A particular thought was messing with his mind but he was still assessing whether or not he should let it out. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in a meal at my place this time?”

There it was – Hannibal smiled widely and nodded.

“I appreciate the invitation.”

“So when are you free?” Will asked with a grin and grabbed the pen to finish with the documents.

“To be honest, tomorrow evening is my only free time this week. We have plenty of surgeries scheduled and who knows how many accidents happen? Everyday something unexpected comes up.”

“Alright. So would you like to come round tomorrow evening or would you prefer to have some rest while you can?”

“I’ll be happy to see you.” Lecter concluded. “If you give me your home address.”

Will rolled his eyes and looked for a small piece of paper. His card contained only his cell number and the number and address of the centre. He kept his own address private.

Graham wrote it down and passed the piece to Hannibal.

“Here you go.”

“So I’ll see you at seven?” Lecter inquired.

“Sure.”

Will looked at the documents on the desk, read them again to double check and turned the pages to Hannibal.

“I need your signature here,” Will pointed at the place at the bottom of one page, “and here.”

“Should I read it before I sign it?” Hannibal narrowed his eyes with feigned suspicion.

“As any other legal document you sign.” Will answered, keeping straight face.

“I have a feeling I should trust you, though.” Lecter stated before he signed the documents without reading them. The words and subsequent actions made Will blush. Hannibal trusted him.

Lecter smoothed the pages and handed them back to Will with a warm smile. The formalities were over. They could proceed with their relationship unofficially and it wouldn’t be unethical.

“So is that it? I’m free to go now?” Hannibal asked, bringing Will back to reality.

“Um… well, yes. You’re no longer under my care. Our patient-therapist relationship is over. But since you’re already here… I’d like to know how you’re doing.” Will leaned on the desk and smiled warmly. “How is work?”

“Busy. I believe you’re aware of that. But no deaths for the last few weeks. It feels like salvation.”

Graham nodded and smiled, thinking about how it must have felt. Lecter must have been accustomed to death at that point, yet he didn’t want to witness more of it.

“Outside of work, I’ve been thinking about engaging in a social event. I think I need to return to social grace.”

Will blinked as he saw Hannibal wink at him. He must have imagined it, surely.

“Well, then. I hope you have a smooth return. And I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Will.”

Lecter shook the other’s hand and left the office, then the building. Will glanced through the window, to follow Hannibal to his car. He had no basis to feel attracted to that man, did he? But a squeeze in Will’s stomach told him there was something odd happening inside him, a strange feeling developing despite his reason and consciousness.


	6. Someday perhaps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is shorter and i predict there will be one or two more chapters  
> also - i started two new fics (but i have no idea where i'm going with them) so if anyone's interested...

They were settled comfortably on the sofa. Will had his head placed on Hannibal’s shoulder while the tv was playing. It was strange how quickly they both seemed to get used to the way their lives went. Those cosy evenings when Lecter did not have to be at the hospital were the best thing that happened to the men in a long time.

Will appreciated every second of their retreat. Sometimes he would not open his mouth to speak for hours, simply enjoying the intimacy between him and Hannibal. He would listen and observe, slightly afraid that his lover might suspect he was analysing.

Hannibal reached out to stroke Will’s hair which fell on his shoulder.

“Do you think we should get married?”

The question was not anticipated and Will’s mouth opened in astonishment and surprise. There was too many factors to consider and Will wouldn’t want to be reckless.

“I realise this is rather straightforward. You would probably want some time to think about it. And forgive me for being so unceremonious about such a serious issue.”

“I don’t… mind.” Will admitted and sat up, facing his lover. “But does that mean you are certain about wanting to marry me?”

“We’ve been living together for some time now. I believe we get on really well. And I can’t imagine ever terminating our relationship. So why not make it official? Unless you’re not comfortable with being officially my partner.”

“How could you say that? I’d love to be registered as your husband. The proposal was just very sudden. I’m confused and speechless.”

“Well I don’t plan on making any wedding. I only thought we could visit a registry office, sign the documents, exchanged the rings and come back home.”

“Not a big deal, huh?” Will was amused with Hannibal’s vision of their marriage but he had to admit he shared the sentiment. There was no need for a big wedding or fitting into the social standards. Graham wanted the formality to be out of the way already and carry on with his life.

“I’m sorry if you expected-”

“I love the idea of a quiet wedding. I don’t want to make a fuss about it, either.” Will confessed and kissed Hannibal. They remained in a warm loving embrace for the next few minutes and Graham could not believe how lucky he was. The fear of losing Hannibal when he woke up seemed to fade and they were one step closer to settling permanently.

*     *     *

“I still remember that you agreed to seeing me only after you asked if I was a father and I denied.” Will remarked while he placed two plates on his kitchen table. He had prepared the dinner himself and was ready when Hannibal arrived. “What did you want to achieve?”

Lecter smiled when he smelled the fish on his plate. Surely, Will enjoyed fishing as much as he enjoyed gutting the fish and later eating his own catch. He was a skilled man, perfectly fine on his own.

“I was wondering if you were capable of talking to me, if you could read me.” Hannibal said almost absent-mindedly, still looking at the fish and not at his host. “Since you’re not a father and you took my case, I was wondering how it would look like. I’m sure there are fathers who work in the centre.”

“I hope I managed to convince you that I’m good at what I’m doing. There’s no need to be a father to understand a loss.” Will argued and watched Hannibal for his reaction. There was no verbal response for a moment as Lecter considered the statement. Then, he nodded in agreement. There was no need for Will to lose anyone to feel sympathy but it seemed to Hannibal that the man knew sorrow and loss.

“Who did you lose?”

Graham closed his eyes. He’d been unmasked. Then, he smiled.

“This is not how it should go.”

“Why? We’re no longer doctor and patient. We’re no longer obligated to follow the rules.” Lecter explained and waited for the answer.

“I lost my mother. I never knew her, never got to meet her. I kinda lost my father as well. He was working hard and I was sort of missing out on everything.”

“So you were mentally an orphan.” Hannibal concluded.

“I guess. But I grew up well. I’m independent. That’s how I’ve been since forever.”

“You must be afraid when you’re vulnerable, on mercy of someone else.”

“I try not to be.”

“I was exactly the same, before Abigail. Then, she moved in and moved all the furniture around, figuratively speaking.”

Will huffed a laugh. He could not imagine Lecter allowing anybody move anything in his perfect house. Not even his surrogate daughter.

“She made me realise that being vulnerable does not always mean being helpless.”

“Have you ever considered changing your job?” Graham asked, smiling widely. “Because I could see you as a therapist.”

Then, it was Hannibal’s time to laugh. He sipped some water and looked at Will, straight into the man’s eyes.

“It’s very difficult for me to show sympathy. I can understand the reasons behind people’s actions but I fail at showing it.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. Hannibal had a point – he would be a terrible therapist if he seemed bored while the patients kept talking and revealed their inner thoughts and sorrows. And he did not say he was sorry about Will’s parents and loneliness. He did not flinch nor expressed any kind of sympathy. But maybe that was better than to pity someone. Will never liked hearing condolences or even birthday wishes. It sounded fake to his ears.

“I believe there are techniques to master that skill.”

“It’s called acting.” Hannibal supplemented, making Will smile.

They continued eating and later Graham asked if Hannibal would like to join him for a drink. The man had to refuse, because he was driving but they had a cup of coffee. For a moment, Lecter seemed distant, lost in thought and a particularly painful one as his smile faded.

Will waited if his guest would explain and waited when he would return to reality. He watched Lecter closely, hoping to jump into the man’s mind, to be able to read him like an open book. The man sitting in front of him was not a mourning father – he was a lost child who had built a perfect castle for himself, then allowed himself to share that castle with someone else, whom he later lost. He was a man whose castle was half in ruin.

“Occasionally, I drop a teacup to shatter on the floor. On purpose.” Hannibal spoke as he was observing the cup in his hands. Usually, he would face Will, he would look straight in the eyes, as if he could read a person just by looking. This time he was distant, unable to look. “I’m not satisfied when it doesn’t gather itself up again.”

Will was about to say something, though he didn’t know what he could say, but then Hannibal smiled, lifted his face to lay his eyes on Will and spoke. “Someday perhaps, a cup will come together.”

In his mind, plenty of small pieces moved and joined into a white china cup. What has been lost could be found.


	7. What do I do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last one and it has a different structure  
> firstly, we have a peak that the second parts of the previous chapters were leading to  
> and then, we have the return to the first chapter (i mean the cemetary)  
> HAVE FUN crying ^^  
> (please, let me know if You cried and if the chapter/the story was okay)

Fool. He was just a fool. He was a fool for believing he could be happy.

Will broke the kiss and looked away. “We shouldn’t have.”

“Why not?” Will snorted but did not move. He was still standing close to Hannibal, circled by the man’s arms. “I asked how you felt. I will ask again – how do you feel, Will?”

“Right now I feel like I took advantage of you.” Graham sighed as he stared at the floor. Facing Hannibal would be unbearable.

“It was me who kissed you.” Hannibal reminded and placed a finger under Will’s chin to lift the man’s head. He’d rather talk face to face, eye to eye. The other man looked at Hannibal reluctantly and swallowed. He was shivering even though it was the middle of summer and it was hot outside.

They were standing in Hannibal’s yard, where no one could see them, so Lecter inferred it was not the fear of being exposed that made Will break the kiss. For the last few weeks they had been building this unusual relationship, which Lecter hoped to bring to its peak by kissing Will. They had shared a few touches, some gentle and innocent, some less proper for two people who used to be in a doctor-patient relationship. Hannibal had supposed it was only a matter of time before they would become friends and later lovers.

“Still, I feel like I violated you.” Will admitted and winced at his own suggestion.

“I’m not a china figurine, Will. I’m not going to break. I didn’t break when I lost Abigail.”

At that moment Will looked away shyly and Hannibal’s lips parted. The man realised what the problem was.

“People mourn differently. I cried when I found out about the accident but it was only once. I’m not heartless; I am only aware that I have to get over it. My life goes on. That’s a lesson you should learn, too.” Hannibal said and stroked Will’s cheek lovingly.

“Are you sure it isn’t too early?”

“I don’t believe there is a rule that says how long one should stay sad and away from everything the life has to offer.”

“I’m not… I only want to be certain that this is not any coping mechanism, that you are aware of the consequences.”

“Oh, Will.” Hannibal smiled warmly. “I’m not treating you as a tool to achieve a selfish goal. I merely reckoned that during the past month we’ve been seeing each other and that we both felt a connection. I apologize if I was wrong.”

“No, I should apologize. I want this. I think I’ve read too much about rebound relationship and I simply don’t want to get involve in one.”

“This has nothing to do with my past traumas, I assure you. Now, may I kiss you again?”

Will smiled faintly and nodded, allowing himself be devoured as Hannibal’s lips pressed against his own and later when their mouths part. They shared warmth, two bodies pressed closely, and they shut their eyes as they felt comfort and safety in the other’s embrace.

Lecter smiled against Will’s lips and hoped that he could keep his promise. He thought how one relationship led him to another and how a beautiful future might be born out of tragedy. If only the teacup could come together and the three of them could share the feeling growing in Hannibal. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the unexpected journey ahead of him that he hoped to share with Will at that moment.

They pulled away, Will’s breath still against Lecter’s chin. “Now, I’m really hungry.” Graham said and both men chuckled.

*     *     *

He was sitting on the bench by the grave, his expression was tired and broken. He’d been helping people get over traumas; he was trained how to deal with other people’s problems. He knew how to react, what to recommend. There were tricks he would use and methods that offered a certain success in therapy. Yet, he had never had to use those methods and tricks on himself.

He was sitting there on the bench and smelled of desperation. He attempted to count the many hours since Hannibal…

“It’s been a month.” Will whispered, on the verge of tears. He didn’t want to break but he felt he would, soon. And he didn’t mind. He was there alone, excluding the grave of his husband’s surrogate daughter.

“Abigail… I’ve never felt so lonely.” Will whispered and pulled up his collar to hide from the wind that was blowing at him. The weather could not be any worse. The timing could not be any better.

He was heartbroken, on the verge of falling to his knees and begging whatever god there was to save him, to save Hannibal.

“How do I even begin? How can I tell you…” Will sobbed and then sniffed. He wiped his tears and nose with the cuff of his coat and continued weakly. “It was a month ago. I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. I couldn’t. I’ve been busy.” Will smiled faintly.

“A month ago your father was on his shift in the hospital. They brought in a few people. Criminals. There was a shooting and Hannibal as well as two more surgeons operated on the wounded ones. The men didn’t want any anaesthesia, they wouldn’t agree to that.”

Will had to make a pause and looked around. He touched the pocket of his coat, hoping he’d feel the vibration but it didn’t happen. No one was calling him at this ungodly hour. He resumed speaking.

“Then, two more men barged in with guns in their hands. They threatened the staff at the hospital to take care of their mates quickly and not call the police. But the law enforcement knew about everything soon enough. The officers burst open the door and invaded the hospital. One of the…” Will sobbed. For a moment he couldn’t catch his breath. Then, he cursed quietly and went on. “One of the criminals put a gun to Hannibal’s head. Abigail… I would took his place if I could.”

For the next few minutes Graham remained silent. He only heard the story from Hannibal’s colleagues who were there but he could imagine everything so vividly. It hurt him to see the scene over and over in his head, replaying like an unwanted earworm.

“Everything happened so quickly but the police managed to disperse the criminals and distract them. It must have been just a bad luck that at the last possible moment, a guy shot, wounding Hannibal.”

Will was staring at the lantern on the grave, wishing for his life not to make him suffer anymore. His husband had lost a daughter; Will didn’t want to lose his husband. Then, Will remembered Hannibal’s words that tragedy was imprinted in Abigail’s fate. It sounded so cheap at the time. Now, it seemed accurate.

Will returned to the present moment and blinked. Where was he?

“He has a collapsed lung. He’s been in a coma for a month now.”

The words sounded so foreign. Will had only heard them but never uttered them. He never verbalized the tragedy that had the audacity to barge into his life.

“Do you remember when he introduced me to you? It will be five years next week. Five years since we met and I had never dared to imagine that there would be someone in my life that I would care for so strongly. I miss him, Abigail. But I know there are two options now. He’ll either come back to me or reunite with you. And I won’t hide my selfishness. I want him to wake up. You’ll meet again someday, anyway. But right now I need him more than you do.”

Will burst into tears. His whole body was shaking as the trickles of tears were making their way down his cheeks.

“Bring him back to me. Have mercy on me. I’m selfish but I ask you not to be.”

After that, he remained silent. It was only in his head that he kept repeating ‘What do I do now?’.


End file.
